Somebody at your company is still typing the schedule into a spreadsheet.

I am Delaney Mizell. I work out of Raleigh, and I build the narrow piece of software that takes one of those jobs off a person’s desk — then I keep it running. One person builds it, and that person is the one who picks up the phone.

The $750 audit, and what you get for it

Receipts: two live products, and the invoice column is empty on both.

Cross-checking a listening history against a dozen venue calendars

Working out which of the bands you already listen to are coming through town means opening your streaming history in one tab and a dozen venue calendars in another, then doing the whole thing again next month. Nobody keeps that up, so people hear about the show the week after it happened. Concerts For You does it instead: you hand it the listening history you can export from Spotify or YouTube in about a minute, it reads the artist names out of the file, and it checks what is on sale inside the distance you are actually willing to drive.

Built and shipped by me. Live since 23 July 2026, and the largest file a real person has handed it carried 3,259 artist names.

delaneymizell.com/concertsforyou

A four-country deposit schedule living in a spreadsheet and a text thread

A wedding trip through four countries is a spreadsheet of deposits, a folder of confirmation emails, and a text thread where somebody asks which villa needs paying by Friday — three places to look, none of which agree with each other. I built the site that holds the whole thing in one: the itinerary day by day, the money sitting against each line, the papers, and the mail from the vendors.

Built and shipped by me. Live since 6 August 2026, and it tracks 14 stops across Italy, Vietnam, China and Japan.

delaneymizell.com/wedding2027

Neither of those was paid work. I built both because I wanted them to exist, and they are the two I can hand you a working URL for. There is no roster of logos on this page because there is no roster yet — you would be the first, and I would rather you hear that from me than find it out. What the two of them prove is not that somebody hired me. It is that I finish things and then keep them running, which is the actual question you have about hiring one person.

How the work goes, from clipboard to callback.

First, I watch how the schedule actually gets made.

Not a requirements meeting. I sit with the two or three people doing the job and watch the real steps, including the ones nobody would think to mention. Picture a plumbing office where the dispatcher writes tomorrow’s stops on a whiteboard at four o’clock, photographs it, and texts the photo to four vans. The software that fixes that is not a scheduling product — it is one screen the dispatcher types into and four phones that show today’s list. You cannot get to that from a written spec, and the person paying for the spec usually cannot tell you either, because to them it is just Tuesday.

Then I build the one thing that removes the clipboard, and nothing else.

One narrow piece, on your own domain, doing the job I watched. No modules you will never open and no dashboard of numbers nobody asked for. An HVAC shop where the techs write part numbers on the back of the work order and somebody keys them into the accounting system on Saturday needs those numbers captured once, on the truck. That is the entire build, and it is smaller than it sounds.

After that, somebody answers when the invoice screen breaks on a Friday.

That is the care plan. Software nobody maintains does not fall over loudly — a callback reminder that stopped sending nine days ago is the normal version of this, not the rare one.

The audit: $750, one week, and a written build plan on your desk.

$750flat, paid once, before any software exists

What it is: I spend a day with the people doing the manual job — on site if you are anywhere near Raleigh, on a call if you are not — and I map the job step by step as it is actually done, not as the procedure says it is done.
What you get: One written document. The job as it stands, which parts software would remove and which it would not, what the build would cost, and what it would take to keep running. Numbers in it, not adjectives.
How long it takes: One week from the day we talk.
It stands on its own: The audit ends there if you want it to. The document is yours, it names a price for the build, and you are free to hand it to somebody who is not me. I would rather you have a real plan you can check than a proposal you cannot.

If that is the thing you want, you do not have to write me an email first — tell me the job at the bottom of this page and I will pick it up from there.

What the invoice looks like after that.

$750 flat for the audit. That is the only price on this page, and it is the only one I can put here honestly.

Then a fixed written quote, before any build starts. You see one number before I write a line of code, and it does not move unless you ask for something that was not in it.

Then a monthly care plan, priced on what actually got built. There is no number for it on this page on purpose. It depends on what exists — a price quoted against nothing is just a figure the two of us would end up arguing about six months in.

And the line most maintenance agreements leave out, written down here instead: a bug is the software not doing what we wrote down and a change is it doing something new, however small — and either way the ladder is the same, so anything under about two hours I absorb and say nothing, two to eight hours comes out of that month’s allowance once I have emailed you and you have said go, and anything over eight hours gets a written quote before I start.

None of that starts until you and I have talked, and the way in is three boxes — tell me the one job somebody there still does on paper.

Tell me one job somebody at your shop still does on paper.

Three boxes. No budget question, no phone number, nothing to choose from a list. I read these myself — there is nobody else here to route it to.

JavaScript is switched off, so this form cannot send — it posts JSON to an endpoint on this same site. Email hello@mizellsoftware.com instead and it lands in exactly the same place.

Or just email hello@mizellsoftware.com. Someone who has already shaken my hand should do that rather than fill in a form.